01 - Tie Up Games
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By Diego
Saturday, January 29th 2005 - 11:07:44 PM
When the door opened, she stood there, with questioning eyes, seemingly wondering why she showed up again. She was 13, about 5 foot three, and had medium length dirty-blonde hair pulled back into a loose ponytail. She was a star soccer player, and so was quite athletic. She wore a white shell surfer-type necklace, and a red t-shirt with faded jeans worn thin at the knees; no belt. It was fall, so she had on her Levis jean jacket, which I loved. I invited her in.
As soon as she entered, she asked where we were going. I directed her to the TV room. We had played this game there before, so she knew the way.
In front of the couch was a wooden desk chair, and she immediately sat down in it, maneuvering her arms over the back and clasping them together. I began. I took a length of white cotton rope and wrapped it around her crossed wrists, first horizontally, then vertically. I finished it off in a sturdy knot. Next, I tied her ankles together, just above her Nike running shoes, noticing that the skin of her flat belly just showed below the hem of her red t-shirt. I wrapped her knees tightly with more rope, then stepped back to admire the scene. I asked her if she was comfortable, and she nodded her head yes. She never complained.
I stood up, and next wadded a small piece of white cloth into a tight ball. She opened her mouth reflexively, and it popped in. From behind, I pulled a strip of white cloth between her lips, to keep her from tonguing out the wad, and secured it tightly behind her head. The tension of the gag caused her freckled cheeks to pooch out a bit, and she chewed on it a couple of times to get more comfortable. She made a couple of feeble grunts for effect, as her green eyes gazed up at me from the right side.
We had been playing this game for a number of years, and neither one of us could remember when, or why, we had started. How many times had we bound and gagged each other this way? Why did it feel so good? We both knew it was a little weird, so we never told anyone about our little game. And no one had ever found out...until now!
Suddenly, we both heard a jingling of keys, and the back door flew open. In walked my little brother. We both looked over at him in surprise. He stopped dead in his tracks, staring at me, then at Tracy, with a startled and confused look. No one said a word.
He was 11, and played in the same summer soccer league as Tracy. They knew each other pretty well from practices and meets. He had very dark brown slightly wavy hair that just crossed the top of his ears. His eyes were almond shaped, like mine, as a function of our heritage. Our mom was Asian, and our dad Latin. His skin was on the dark side, but somewhat lighter than mine. He was wearing his favorite white t-shirt with some sort of black swirled dragon-like figure on the chest. His shirt reached down just to the top of the pockets of his Old Navy painter's pants, which were a little worn. His sneakers were open on top, and he, too, was wearing a Levis jean jacket. His was more worn than Tracy's. It used to be mine, until I grew out of it.
Confused, he asked what was going on? Tracy began to say something, but it was impossible to decipher, as the words came dribbling out from behind the gag. She began to grunt and mpff a little louder, and I suggested she try to keep quiet.
Still wondering, Chris began to look a little scared. Perhaps it was the situation, or maybe he perceived my own growing panic. At any rate, he made a run for the kitchen, which was on the other side of the room. I sprang, and knocked him off his feet, both of us flying directly into an oversized armchair. Before he could right himself, I pounced on him, pinning him chest first into the chair, twisting one arm behind his back, then the other. He was pretty feisty, but I was older, heavier, and much more powerful and athletic.
Fortunately, I had all my materials on the chair, and was able to quickly grab a length of rope and wrap it around his wrists before he quite knew what to do (or what was happening). He got increasingly more agitated and angry, and more difficult to control. I quickly secured his ankles, then knees, and slid him off the chair and onto his belly on the carpeted floor. He looked back at me with eyes wide with anger (and perhaps a little terror), his nostrils flared, and his teeth clenched. He started to scream that he was going to tell, and that I was in huge trouble. He gazed over towards Tracy, and I did the same. She sat there quietly, staring over at us, still tied, with the white cleave gag firmly in place. Her upper body was situated sideways, and she was slightly silhouetted by the light filtering in through a sunny, but curtained window. Her eyes peered at me, and for the first time since we started playing these little games, I saw what looked like fear, and a desire to be set free. She mpffed a few times unintelligibly into the gag, but the resumption of my brother's struggles left me no opportunity to reply.
Chris started fighting even more frantically, yelling threats loudly that he would never be able to keep. I sat heavily on the small of his back, and quickly wadded up another small piece of cloth I had left over. I held it in my right hand, and the end of a red bandana rolled up lengthwise in my left hand. Chris couldn't see what I was doing, so the whole thing came as a big surprise.
I turned Chris's head to the right, and held it firmly against the floor in that position with my left hand. On the next breath, Chris opened his mouth widely and I stuffed in the waded cloth as quickly and as deeply as I could, without getting bitten. Holding on to one end of the rolled up red bandana, I instantly grabbed the other end with my right hand, and pulled it between my brother's head and the floor, guiding it in across his quivering lips, and between his open pearly whites as he tried in vain to tongue out the wad. I then pulled the ends of the bandana tightly behind his head, and secured it in a firm knot. Although his screams and obscenities were muffled a little and a slightly more difficult to make out, he was still deafening. Still holding him down, I put my hand across his forehead and pulled his head back firmly, until I knew it hurt. I told him it was no use struggling, that he would never escape, and that Tracy over there was proof. I told him I had been practicing ties for years, and that I had gotten pretty good at it. If he didn't calm down, I threatened to continue to pull on his head, and wrench his neck further. He relaxed and his struggles ceased. His screams fell off to soft grunts, coughs, and barely audible mpffs.
To be sure Chris didn't escape, I took a length of rope and hog-tied him. Then, I pushed him over from his belly onto his side, so I could watch his face as I moved over to Tracy.
I stood over Tracy, and she looked up at me, her brow creased into a slightly panicked expression. I loved looking down at her gagged face, with her wide green eyes and her freckled cheeks puffed out from the tight cleave. She chewed on her gag a couple of times, then mpffed once, gesturing to me to remove her gag. Reluctantly, I pulled it from between her moist red lips, and let it fall around her neck, over her necklace. She opened her mouth, and pushed the waded cloth forward. I took it from her. She asked for a drink of water, which I already had positioned on the end table, and I held it to her lips as she took a drink. When she finished, she looked over at my brother, lying bound and gagged on his side, his jean jacket falling back from his chest, and his belly peering out from under his white t-shirt. He stared back at us, wondering what was in store for him. She asked for the gag back, and for both Chris and her to be carried upstairs. I had no idea what plan she had in her devious mind. I re-gagged her, and did what she had asked. My parents wouldn't be home for at least a couple of hours.
Diego
despos1@msn.com
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Diego's stories
- 01 - Tie Up Games (m/f, m/m)
Index of all stories in the "Archive for Everyone" section